The Greater Good
by elbcw
Summary: The Musketeers are despatched to assist in a delivery for the King. But the man they are to help is far from pleasant and the men trying to kill him are even worse. Athos has to give an order he does not like due to the effect it will have on the others.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: This is the longest story I have written. It has some similarities to my last story, ('Fault') but that was not my intention! This one has been rumbling around in my head for quite some time, but it took me a while to get the plot to gel. I hope you enjoy it.

The Greater Good

Chapter One

Athos walked passed the two musketeers at the palace gate, acknowledging them both with a nod of the head. It was his first day of full duty since taking a hit to the arm from a gun during a brawl with the Red Guard. An absurd injury, that had caused a fair amount of amusement from Porthos and Aramis afterwards. Fighting with the Red Guard usually consisted of a couple of black eyes and a few bruised egos.

They had not found out which Red Guard was responsible, when Athos had been hit those that were still standing had taken the moments pause to hasten away and disappear, despite Porthos' best effort to grab them.

The wound had not been serious but, although he could now wield a sword and just about aim a gun, he was not without pain and stiffness in the limb. He knew that this would fade in a few days' time.

He waited for a few moments outside the room where the King was receiving visitors. He knew Treville and Richelieu were inside. He had been summoned to join them. He did not know why, but suspected it would involve a mission that Richelieu had decided was beneath his own Red Guard.

The doors opened and the Cardinal swept out, his robes swinging as he turned away down the corridor. He barely looked at Athos, but there was a hint of smugness about his features. One day, thought Athos, we will find his weakness and show him up for what he is.

Athos entered the grand room. Other than the obligatory servants, only the King and Treville were there. Athos walked over to them, bowing obediently to the King as he came to a stop a respectful few paces away.

'Deal with it Treville,' said the King, 'I want it sorted, Lefevre is too good a man to lose. This needs to be dealt with quickly and quietly. I trust your men can be counted on, they have had their issues of late. Redeem yourself.'

With a curt nod of his head the King turned on his heel and strode out of the room towards the palace gardens. Treville and Athos bowing as he went. Once the door had been shut behind him Treville turned to Athos and smiled, rolling his eyes.

'The man is quite impossible at times,' he said indicating that they too should leave by the door Athos had just entered through, 'if I had known he wasn't going to stay I would not have had you come out here.'

'It is no bother,' replied Athos, as they walked back out to the main entrance to the palace, 'what is it that the King is so keen to have dealt with?'

They left the building and walked across the courtyard as Treville spoke, 'there is a nobleman, Lefevre, who lives a few miles outside Paris, he is a rich man who is currently in the Kings favour.'

Athos smiled at the statement, the King was known to offer favour to whichever nobleman had the most to offer at the time. Once the unfortunate dignitary had been of use they were frequently shunned and the King moved on to someone else.

'Lefevre wants to make a gift to the King of gold. A substantial amount,' continued Treville, 'he is due to deliver it in the next few days…'

'Are we to guard this shipment?'

They had reached the street and could not speak openly any further.

'If only it were that simple, I will meet with you and the others in my room in an hour, there is work to be done before the gold can be moved.'

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D'Artagnan did not like the sound of Lefevre. It had become apparent to them all as Treville spoke that the nobleman they were to protect was a cruel and sly man.

Treville related the assignment they had been given. Lefevre was going to transport the gold in the next few days as a gift for the King. Normally this would not be an issue, but two days previously information had been received that a gang of thieves planned to attack the noble and steal the gold. The King was not pleased with this news and had dispatched his musketeers to ensure the attack was foiled and the thieves captured or killed.

What the King did not know, or chose not to know was that Lefevre was not a good man. He was known to beat his servants and treat them with little respect. Whilst it was not uncommon for men to treat their servants badly it was apparent that Lefevre was particularly cruel. They did not know the details, but they knew that he rarely kept a servant on for more than a few weeks at a time.

'What I want you to do is go to Lefevre and tell him that you are there to escort the gift, and him, back to Paris. Don't tell him you know about the plot to kill him; the King does not want the gift to be delayed.'

'Do we know anything else about this plot, do we know anything about the thieves?' asked Athos.

'Not at the moment,' said Treville, he looked over at Aramis who was stood to Athos' right listening intently, 'the man who gave the information only speaks a little French, the guards at the Chatelet have told us that he does speak Spanish, I need you to visit him and get any information you can.'

Aramis nodded.

'In the meantime, you three can make your way to Lefevre, introduce yourselves and learn what you can about the route he intends to take and try to work out where the attack will happen. With luck, our informant will give Aramis the exact location, but we need to be prepared if he does not.'

The men made to leave but Treville stopped them, 'I must remind you that we do not want Lefevre to know that his life is in danger.'

As they left the room d'Artagnan asked Porthos, 'why are we doing this, what about the Red Guard?'

'Clearly Richelieu thinks this is simple enough for us,' replied Porthos with a smile, 'his guard have more important things to do…like learning not to shoot us when we have a fight.'

Athos glared at him.

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The Chatelet, was not somewhere anyone would willingly visit. It was a place of gloom and despair. It stank of pain and death. Aramis followed the guard along the dank, dim corridor trying not to glance into the cells that he passed. He did not want to see the poor victims of the horrible place.

The cell with the Spanish prisoner was at the end of the corridor. The guard unlocked the door and stood back to allow Aramis to enter. He waited by the door with a look of distain on his face.

The small room had little light and as Aramis' eyes adjusted he could make out the form of a man sat on the floor, leaning against the wall in the corner, his legs bent at the knees and drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. He was shivering.

Aramis sighed, he knew it would be pointless to ask or even demand that this poor unfortunate creature be given, at the very least, a blanket. The guards were not interested. They did not care if the people in their charge lived or died. The inmates were fed sparingly, and their welfare was of no concern.

He had arrived not knowing what the prisoner's temperament would be. The only information they had about his capture was that he had approached a Red Guard and asked for help, saying he had information and wanted a little money. The Red Guard had arrested him and thrown him into the Chatelet before reporting what little information he could gather to Richelieu.

'What is your name?' Aramis asked, in Spanish, not bothering to even try speaking French. He gathered from the man's demeanour that he did not pose a threat.

The man tried to make himself smaller pushing himself further into the corner, although doing so made him wince.

'Are you hurt?'

Aramis crouched down in front of the man and slowly reached out to him, trying to remain passive and unthreatening. Now that he was closer he could see bruising to his face. It was clear the man had been beaten. It was not uncommon for prisoners to die in the Chatelet. To die from injuries, they did not have when they first walked through the gates into the forbidding place.

The man looked confused, perhaps Aramis was the first person to show any form of compassion since he arrived in Paris.

With a small shuddering voice, the man spoke, 'I…I asked for help…I told the soldier I had information…I thought I might get a reward.'

'Yes, my friend, if you can give us the information we need, you will be rewarded.'

Aramis hated lying to the man, but even if he would not be rewarded with his freedom, Aramis would see to it that he was made comfortable. His uniform held some sway over the guards and a few coins might help.

'Tell me what you wanted to tell the soldier.'

'I…I was dismissed by my master, I didn't work quick enough…I was thrown out…after he…' the man paused and winced as he moved slightly, 'they grabbed me…the men…they wanted to know about some gold…'

It was apparent to Aramis that the man was in a lot of pain. But due to the low light and the man's position he could not work out the cause.

'…I told them what I knew, that the master had the gold in a chest and was going to take it to the King…they said…they said that I could help them steal it, I saw Ramiro, he used to work for the master, but had been thrown out a few weeks before me, I think he was helping them…I knew it was wrong…I told them I wouldn't…they hit me and were going to kill me…but I got away.'

'And you came to Paris to warn the King?'

'Yes.'

The man was still shivering and showing signs of pain. Aramis decided that he would revisit with food and blankets the next morning on his way to join his comrades, it was the least he could do for this poor soul.

'Where are you injured?' asked Aramis.

Aramis was shocked at the injuries he saw.

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Athos had taken the lead as they trotted into the courtyard outside the large house belonging to Lefevre. Porthos and d'Artagnan had been only too willing to let him. When it came to speaking to anyone of a higher-class Athos was the better of them. Porthos knew it was not a slight on either of them and had never taken it personally. They each brought their own talents to the group. And dealing with upper class noblemen was generally Athos' undertaking.

Porthos admired the house. It was large, Lefevre clearly had money. From what Treville had told them the money was partly inherited and partly from investments in trade that had paid well. Lefevre lived in luxury and was immodest with it. The fact that he wanted to effectively buy favour with the King was testament to that.

They dismounted and handed their reins to two stable boys who had run out to meet them. They were obviously expected. A servant was waiting for them at the door to the house. Although well-dressed he looked cowed and would not make eye contact with them. He led them into the house and asked them to wait in the impressive hallway. The tiled floor gleamed, a staircase swept upwards below walls covered with portraits of impressive looking individuals.

'The master will see you,' said the servant, indicating that they should enter a room to their left.

They walked through, Athos leading the way, d'Artagnan following and Porthos bringing up the rear.

Lefevre was a tall man and he was well built, his frame was closer to Porthos' own than the slighter build of d'Artagnan. He was in his forties and looked healthy. As they walked into the room he was standing to the right of an impressive desk, he put down the papers he had been looking at and took a few strides towards Athos.

'Monsieur Lefevre, I am Athos, of the Kings Musketeers, my men and I have been sent, by the King, to assist with the transportation of your gift to Paris.'

Lefevre looked Athos up and down and seemed to approve, he looked over at Porthos and d'Artagnan who had both remained by the door standing at attention. He grunted his approval of the three of them and returned his attention to Athos.

They had decided, on the journey that they would treat the nobleman with the respect his position deserved but that was as far as their interaction with man would go. His reputation as a cruel man had made each of the musketeers uncomfortable with this mission.

'Do you require rooms?' asked Lefevre, 'I will not be ready to leave until Thursday.'

'Thank you, but no, we have taken rooms at the tavern in the village, we will be quite comfortable there,' replied Athos, 'but we do need to speak to you regarding a plot that has been uncovered.'

'Yes?' Lefevre asked intrigued.

'It has been brought to our attention that there is likely to be an attack on your carriage. A group of thieves have learned of the gold shipment.'

Lefevre appeared shocked for a moment. His features then clouded over as anger replaced his initial emotion.

'Where has this information come from?'

'That is being followed up as we speak. When my man joins us later today we should have further information. In the meantime, we need to know which route you intend to take so that we can work out the most likely place for an attack.'

Porthos smirked as he watched Athos manipulate Lefevre towards their goal. They wanted to get the information they needed as quickly as possible so that they could leave. Lefevre, though, seemed to have other plans. He returned to his desk and picked up a bell which he rang impatiently.

The door opened and the same inhibited servant walked in. He crossed the room to his master and bowed slightly.

'Yes sir?' he asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice.

'Bring me my maps from the library,' Lefevre said, he then turned back to Athos, 'I shall pick a different route.'

This was not what the musketeers wanted to happen, they needed the route to remain as planned so that they could disrupt the attack when it happened. The Kings instructions had been clear, he wanted the bandits caught and dealt with.

The servant had not moved. Lefevre looked at him questioningly. The nervous man paused then asked quietly, 'which maps sir?'

Lefevre's rage boiled over. He had been gradually working himself up since Athos told him of the plot to attack his gold. The poor servant, through no fault of his own, had tipped the man over the edge. Porthos was shocked to see Lefevre raise his hand to the smaller man and slap him hard across the face. The servant fell to the floor clutching the side of his face.

'Hey,' Porthos said stepping forward only to be stopped by d'Artagnan's hand on his arm and a look from Athos that could have stopped the King in his tracks. Unfortunately, the damage had been done.

Lefevre turned to Athos as the servant scrambled to his feet, 'control your man,' he said indicating Porthos.

Athos, who rarely let his emotions show said calmly, 'my apologies. If you will permit me?' he turned to Porthos and d'Artagnan, 'wait outside, I will deal with you later.'

Porthos knew that Athos was not belittling or berating him, but trying to retain a working relationship with Lefevre. They needed to be able to work with the man, preferably as equals, and Porthos' outburst could have cost them that luxury. With luck Athos would be able to rescue the situation, but Porthos' continued presence would not assist.

He felt guilty for nearly spoiling their first meeting with Lefevre but he had been shocked at the man striking his servant. He did not like the disparity between different classes. His own upbringing frequently reminding him of how different the levels of society were. He had acted on impulse.

He allowed d'Artagnan to steer him from the room and back out to the courtyard.

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Once Porthos had been removed from the room by d'Artagnan Athos turned back to Lefevre, 'I can only apologies for my comrade's behaviour,' he said using as commanding a tone as he could muster, 'he is not used to being around the upper classes.'

Athos had hoped not to use his own status to curry favour with Lefevre but feared it was now their only option. The servant was still hovering near his master and looked even more nervous than he had before. Lefevre nodded at Athos before turning back to the waiting man.

'Go and get the maps from my desk in the library. Now!' said Lefevre with menace.

The man scurried from the room. Athos watched him go sympathetically, but unable to do anything to help.

'You are clearly a cut above your men, I am more than happy to deal with you, perhaps it would be better if your men wait until you can give them orders, once we have decided what the best course of action is,' Lefevre said.

Athos' plan had worked, inwardly he sighed with relief. When the servant returned with the maps and nervously handed them to Lefevre Athos made sure he did not even acknowledge the other man's presence.

The map, when spread across the large desk showed the local roads towards Paris. Lefevre pointed out the route he had intended to take and the one he was considering taking instead. Athos knew that he had to persuade Lefevre to stick to his original route.

'The plot that has been uncovered was reported to the King, who was most concerned,' began Athos, 'he is always concerned regarding reports of bandits on his roads. He is keen that they are caught and brought to justice. I am sure it would please him greatly if you were instrumental in their capture.'

Lefevre thought for a few moments before replying, 'then we shall keep to the original route. I trust that your presence will ensure the gold is protected?' Athos nodded before Lefevre continued, 'You are a man with military knowledge, where do you think the attack will occur?'

Athos leaned forward and examined the map closer. He could see several spots that would work well. He would have liked Porthos' input but that was not going to happen now. He reassessed each area and discounted a couple. There were still three possibilities, a secluded area with a bank on one side which would provide cover for the bandits, a wooded area with a sharp turn, and a section of road that would ford a small river. Athos decided that honesty was his best course of action at the moment.

'I see three possibilities, here, here and here,' he indicated on the map. Lefevre nodded his agreement, Athos was not sure the man had actually chosen the same places or not, 'I would like to wait until my comrade arrive after he has finished interrogating the informant. We will be alert and vigilant for the entire journey, of course, but with the added knowledge of where the attack is to happen we can be better prepared.'

'Then that is settled, now, will you join me in a drink?'

Athos did not want to join the man for a drink, but knew that he would have to. He nodded his accent and Lefevre reached to his left and took a bottle from a side table and two glasses. He poured a generous amount of spirit into each glass, handing one to Athos.

'I envy you,' he said, 'I once considered joining the military, but a horse riding accident left me with chronic pain in my leg, I can no longer ride for any length of time.'

Athos did not like the thought of this man leading anyone into battle. He thought of his own recent injury and how he had been lucky to get away with a temporary restriction in the movement of his right arm. He had suffered a bit on the journey out to Lefevre's property but at least it would improve.

'Will you discipline your man for his actions earlier?'

'He will be spoken to,' lied Athos.

'I use physical punishments myself, I find it most cathartic, it teaches the good for nothing creatures where they belong. I thrash them, and dismiss them, they are worthless to me if they cannot do as they are told. I started employing Spanish men as I had heard they are better behaved, but I have yet to find one that can do as I ask in the manner that I want it done.'

As he spoke Lefevre indicated four small rods on the side table, each had a set of leather straps attached, not dissimilar to a cat-o-nine-tales, although theses homemade implements looked like they would inflict a little less damage to the recipient. But they were still instruments of torture as far as Athos was concerned.

Athos hated the man even more. He was more than cruel, he was evil. Again, he wondered why they were dealing with this matter, it would be tempting to let the bandits kill him. But he was loyal to the King and therefore would carry out his mission, to the best of his abilities.

It was clear that the staff were kept in servitude, more like slaves then people. Athos abhorred such nobles. But he was going to have to deal with this one with as much fake camaraderie as he could generate.

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'I don't think he's dead yet, won't be long though,' said the guard with a cackle. Aramis wanted to punch the man, but knew that would only delay him in getting back to the poor unfortunate servant. He still did not know the man's name. When he had finally been able to see the wounds that afflicted Lefevre's former servant it had shocked him. That a supposed leader could inflict such harm to someone in their pay infuriated him.

The wounds had not been tended to, the guards at the Chatelet knowing that no one would thank them for trying to keep their charge alive. Why should they bother, if the man died, it was one less mouth to feed. If, indeed, they had been feeding him.

There had been nothing Aramis could do the day before, but now, armed with a couple of blankets taken from the garrison infirmary and some bread and water, he hoped to make the man a little more comfortable. Not that it would do much good. The wounds were infected, the man had a fever and was, as the guard had indicated, dying.

But, if Aramis could ease the poor man's passing he could rest a little easier himself.

The guard opened the door to the cell and stepped aside.

'You will not be needed,' said Aramis as he entered, 'I doubt he will try to escape.'

With an agreeing nod and a cruel smile, the guard wandered off. Aramis crossed the short distance to the man who was still huddled on the floor. He did not appear to have moved since Aramis had left him the afternoon before. His shirt was still untucked where he had allowed Aramis to look at the marks on his back.

Aramis gently touched the man's shoulder, he jumped slightly at the contact. The former servant was warm, the fever worse than the previous day. His bleary eyes looked up and found Aramis'.

Aramis smiled and said, 'I have some water and bread if you can manage it?'

The man did not respond, looking at him with a blank expression. Aramis gently lifted the man's head from the wall and tried to help him to drink from the water skin he had brought with him. The water simply dripped to the floor. The dying man was too far gone. Aramis sighed, he knew that he would not be able to offer any other comfort to the man. He pulled out the cross he wore and clutching it prayed quietly, in Spanish, in the hope that the man might glean some comfort.

A few minutes later the man was dead.

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D'Artagnan was chuckling slightly as they wandered across the courtyard. Porthos glanced at him and smiled.

'Well if Aramis had been here, he would have said something,' Porthos said.

'I know, I have to admit, I was about to interrupt myself, you just beat me to it,' replied d'Artagnan, 'he certainly lives up to his reputation. I pity that poor man when we are gone. Lefevre has quite the temper. I think even Athos was struggling not to throttle him.'

'I know.'

They had reached the other side of the courtyard and were stood just inside the gate. A movement to the left caught d'Artagnan's attention. He took a couple of steps onto the road outside and saw a man hastening away having been hidden in the bushes which grew along the border of Lefevre's property. The stranger saw d'Artagnan watching him and began to run, crossing the road and disappearing into a wooded area opposite.

'Hey,' called d'Artagnan as he took off, at a run, after the fleeing man.

He crashed through the trees pushing back the lower branches as he did so. The running man was not far ahead of him. D'Artagnan was gaining quickly. It did not take him long to be within reach. He grabbed the back of the man's shirt and they both tumbled to the floor, d'Artagnan falling onto the back of the man who howled in pain. D'Aratagnan quickly pulled himself off the crying man and pushed him over onto his back. The man continued to cry in pain. D'Artagnan let go of him completely and he sat up slowly panting hard. But he did not try to run again.

'What were you doing?'

The man stared at d'Artagnan, apparently weighing up his options. Wisely he decided that attempting to fight the armed musketeer was not an option and he already knew he could not out run the man.

'I was sent to watch…to see who was visiting…and to report back,' said the man in between breaths.

'By who?'

'Paget. He helped me…me and my friend, we were Lefevre's servants, but he threw us out. Paget, found me. I help him. My friend was thrown out after me but he didn't want to help and Paget hurt him and he ran away…I didn't want to be alone out there…I…I stayed.'

'Where is Paget?'

'I can't tell you, he'll hit me again, I don't want to be hit again. It's not as bad as Lefevre did but Paget gets angry quick.'

'What did Lefevre do to you?' asked d'Artagnan, concerned.

The man untucked his shirt and pulled it up wincing as he did so, he twisted round slightly so that d'Artagnan could see the man's back. There were several marks, d'Artagnan could tell they had been caused by a lash or whip, welts and fading bruises crossed the man's back. The skin was broken in a few places. The wounds were healing but must have still been painful.

'When did he do this, this looks fairly recent?'

'Just before he dismissed me. One strike for each day of the week said Lefevre when he did it. Same as for my friend.'

If Lefevre could have gone down any further in d'Artagnan's estimations he would have done. The supposed noble was clearly a sadistic man who did not understand patience or compassion.

He became aware of Porthos approaching, he had not realised how far behind the bigger man must have been, he turned towards him. As Porthos came into view d'Artagnan was surprised at his expression, not one of concern, but of shock. And he was not looking at d'Artagnan or the man he was with. Porthos was looking passed them both and he was reaching for his gun. As d'Artagnan turned to look for whatever was causing his friend concern he just had time to comprehend a fist coming at his face very fast. A brief explosion of pain and then nothing.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

When d'Artagnan had charged off after the fast disappearing stranger Porthos had been quick to react. However, one of the tree branches that d'Artagnan knocked aside in his haste had sprung back and hit Porthos throwing him off balance enough to stumble to his knees. By the time he had regained his footing, d'Artagnan had disappeared from sight.

Continuing in the direction he had been heading, but at a more sensible pace, it took Porthos a few minutes to locate the young musketeer. He could hear him talking, Porthos guessed to the man that he had been pursuing. As he arrived he saw d'Artagnan crouched down next to a pale looking man. They had both looked up. But Porthos then noticed another man who had approached from the opposite side, unseen by d'Artagnan. Before Porthos could draw his gun, the new arrival had punched d'Artagnan hard to the face, the young man unconscious before he had crumpled to the floor.

Porthos drew his gun and levelled it at the man.

'Don't move,' he said with menace.

The man was quick, he already had a knife to d'Artagnan's throat. The blade pushing at the skin of the unconscious man's neck.

'I think it's you who shouldn't move. Here is what we do, you don't shoot me and I won't slit his throat.'

Porthos said nothing. But continued to stare at the man, trying to work out how to sort the matter out without d'Artagnan being hurt any further. The punch to his head had already caused a nasty looking cut to the hairline, that would probably need stitches as blood ran down his face.

'All I want is my man back,' the knifeman indicated the scared looking man sat on the floor by the still form of d'Artagnan, 'and I guess you want your man back as well.'

Porthos nodded slowly, eyes flicking between the knife and the holders face.

'Ramiro, get up slowly and get behind me.'

The sitting man pulled himself up and did as he was told stopping behind the other man.

'What's to stop me shooting you as you leave?' asked Porthos, his gun still aimed at the knifeman's head.

'I think one of my friends might have something to say about that…'

Two more men stepped out of the woods on either side of the knifeman, both pointing guns at Porthos. Porthos could see no way out of the situation other than to go along with it. He let his gun arm drop.

'Good,' said the man, 'now don't move until we are gone, my men will be watching.'

Porthos guessed that they would not shoot him even if he had made a move, the noise would have alerted the Lefevre household. The men could have attacked with swords or knives but Porthos was a big man, and a musketeer, and would have been able to take them all on. They were being prudent and using the unconscious d'Artagnan to bargain with.

The knifeman removed the blade from d'Artagnan's neck, and stood up. He backed away, keeping Ramiro behind him. The two gunmen backed off slowly. Once they were out of sight Porthos advanced on d'Artagnan, he knelt down and felt the young man's neck. The beat of the pulse was strong and steady.

'D'Artagnan? Come on wake up for me. I don't want to have to carry you.'

The man did not stir. Perhaps the head wound was more serious than he had first thought. He looked about him, they were too far from the road to be seen. He could go and get help, but he did not want to leave the unconscious musketeer alone. He would have to carry the man.

Although slight d'Artagnan was not a small man so the prospect of hauling him on his shoulder was not welcome, but needs must. Porthos grabbed d'Artagnan's arms and pulled him into a sitting position then dragged him up. He was just about to bend to pull the man over his shoulder when finally, d'Artagnan stirred, probably from being manhandled.

He was clearly disorientated and it took a few seconds for him to find his feet. Porthos kept a tight hold of the confused man as he lowered him back to the ground.

'What happened?'

'The leader of the bandits wanted his man back.'

'Oh…'

Porthos let d'Artagnan rest for a few moments then said, 'ready to go back? We don't want Athos sending out a search party.'

D'Artagnan nodded and stood up slowly. Porthos steadied him when he swayed, it was clear the man was in no shape to walk unaided. He grabbed d'Artagnan's arm and pulled it over his shoulder, slipping the other arm around the injured man's waist.

'Take your time,' he said as they started to pick their way back to the road.

It took a few minutes but with only a few stumbles from d'Artagnan they made it. Although d'Artagnan was struggling and Porthos was taking most of the young man's weight by the time they reached the road.

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The brief meeting with Lefevre had left Athos drained, he was glad when the noble had let him go. They had agreed to meet again the next afternoon with full details of what they planned to do to protect the gold and capture the bandits.

He walked out onto the courtyard expecting to see Porthos and d'Artagnan waiting with their horses. The three horses were tied to a bar opposite the entrance to the house, the two stable boys waiting patiently with them. There was no sign of either of the musketeers.

'Where did the other musketeers go?' he asked one of the boys, who seemed shocked to be spoken to.

The boy stuttered as he replied, 'um…out…out the gate sir.'

The boy pointed towards the exit to the yard. As he walked over Porthos and d'Artagnan appeared rounding the corner from the road. D'Artagnan looked awful, he was pale and barely walking on his own with blood covering half his face. Porthos was practically carrying the man. Athos rushed to d'Artagnan's other side and helped take some of the young man's weight.

'What happened?' he asked looking at Porthos.

'Not here,' he replied looking over at the house. Athos nodded and helped Porthos to steer the young man towards the horses.

'You'll have to double up with him, it's not far to the village,' said Porthos.

They helped d'Artagnan to mount up and Athos quickly climbed up behind him, holding the swaying man by the waist. He wasted no time in turning the horse and trotting out of the courtyard. He knew the fast movement would not help d'Artagnan but getting him back to their rooms would. Porthos, having tied the reins of d'Artagnan's mare to his saddle, followed.

MMMMMMMMMM

Aramis had just settled down at the small table in the room he would share with Porthos when he heard his friends coming up the stairs of the tavern. Although their task was not one any of them were keen on, he was still pleased to be reunited with them. He rose and went to greet them. He was not expecting what he saw when he stepped out of the room.

Porthos was firmly holding an obviously injured d'Artagnan and trying to manoeuvre him into the next room.

'What happened?' he asked.

Porthos looked up, 'why does everyone keep asking me that?' he said, as he finally got through the door.

Aramis retraced his steps, he pulled open the saddle bag he had hooked over the end of his bed. He grabbed the medical kit he always carried and hurried back to the other room. Athos was just reaching the top of the stairs, carrying a bottle of wine and some cloths.

Before Athos could speak Aramis held up his bag, 'I saw, is there water coming?'

Athos nodded as they entered the room. Porthos had managed to lay d'Artagnan on one of the beds and was pulling off the man's boots. D'Artagnan was blinking as if trying to clear his vision. He was pale beneath the blood that coated his face.

'How long ago did this happen?'

'Not long, he was unconscious for a bit, I think the ride back probably hasn't helped him,' said Porthos standing back to let Aramis assess their young friend.

'Is that his only injury?' Aramis asked pointing at the head wound. He had perched on the edge of the bed and was pulling his stitching kit from his medical bag.

'Yeah.'

Athos crossed to the door when it was knocked, he opened it and took a pitcher of water and a bowl from the bar maid, thanking her and closing the door again. They did not need an audience.

Aramis set to work cleaning the wound, d'Artagnan tried weakly to push his hands away when the alcohol was poured over it. Porthos moved round to the other side of the bed and gently restrained the confused man.

As Aramis worked Porthos filled them in on what had occurred in the woods. Athos told them about his conversation with Lefevre. And Aramis related his own findings from the unfortunate man in the Chatelet.

'It seems we have two rather unpleasant men to deal with,' said Athos when Aramis had finished.

As Aramis began stitching the head wound d'Artagnan hissed in pain and tried to move away, Porthos spoke to the injured man calmly and tried to get him to understand that they were helping him. But by this point d'Artagnan was in too much pain to understand and had to be restrained firmly so that Aramis could work.

As the stitching continued d'Artagnan finally succumbed and passed out. Porthos was still holding the injured man's arms when Aramis looked up at him and said, 'I think you can leave him be now.'

Porthos sat back, 'how are we going to deal with this?' he said, 'we don't know how many bandits there are, we don't know where they are going to attack…'

'I have an idea,' said Athos quietly, 'but I don't think you are going to like it…either of you,'

Both Porthos and Aramis looked at him, puzzled.

MMMMMMMMMM

As Aramis had been stitching up the wound on d'Artagnan's head and Porthos had been helping by calming the young man, Athos had poured himself some wine. He sat on the other bed and watched, knowing that he was not needed. Aramis competently dealt with the situation despite initially being none the wiser as to how their youngest member had come by the injury.

As each, uninjured man, had filled the other two in on the recent events Athos had begun formulating a plan. It was clear that they needed more information about the raid. At the moment, all they knew was that it was going to happen. With d'Artagnan injured and potentially out of commission for the time being they needed as much information as possible.

The only way that was going to happen was to find the bandits and get the information from them. And the only way that was going to happen was to infiltrate the gang. They already knew that Paget would take dismissed servants and interrogate them. They knew that if the servant offered to assist, Paget would take them to the gang's hideout. If they could get on the inside they could gather further intelligence and be ready to bring the gang down. Possibly before the raid even began.

The hard part was to get a man on the inside. Only one of their group could do that and only one of their group, at the current time, could assist in making it convincing. This is what Athos knew would not be approved of.

He told Porthos and Aramis his plan.

Aramis sat quietly, his face showing no emotion, but his eyes betrayed him, he was concerned. Athos guessed the concern was not for himself, but for Porthos. The big musketeer had jumped up when Athos had finished outlining his plan. He had taken a step towards Athos, enraged, but Aramis had firmly told him to stop before returning to his quiet contemplation.

'I ain't doing it,' said Porthos, turning towards the window, obviously not wanting to make eye contact with either Athos or Aramis.

'Unless you can come up with a better plan, you will have to. If I was fully fit I would do it myself.'

He glanced over at Aramis who was looking at him concerned, a silent question communicated.

'My arm is still stiff and I doubt I could…' he paused unable to say the words, 'with enough force to make it look…convincing.'

Aramis nodded, he turned to Porthos who was still gazing out of the window, 'you know what Athos says is right. If I am to infiltrate the gang, pretending to be one of Lefevre's dismissed servants it has to look right. It will be safer for me if it looks right. It needs to be believable.'

Porthos said nothing.

'Porthos, it has to be me, I'm the only one the gang hasn't seen, I'm the only one of us that can speak Spanish fluently.'

Porthos nodded slowly still staring out of the window, 'I know, but…' he trailed off.

'I'm sorry Porthos,' said Athos quietly, 'but you will have to…'

MMMMMMM

Conflicting thoughts ran through his mind. The plan was sound, he knew that, but the execution of it would be difficult. He did not want to do it, but knew that he had to. Even though he knew that it was the only way to make Aramis' infiltration credible he still did not want to do it.

When Athos had produced one of the cruel looking home-made whips the plan had become all too clear to Porthos and he realised instantly what the others were asking of him. The recent events meant that he, and only he, was capable to perform the barbaric, but necessary, task.

He was going to have to intentionally flog Aramis.

Just thinking it sickened him. He knew Aramis would not hold it against him, but that did not make it easier. There had been previous missions where they had intentionally hurt one another to make something look convincing, but it did not make it any easier.

'How is d'Artagnan?' asked Athos. None of them had spoken for a few minutes, each lost in thought.

'I think he will sleep for a while yet, but he seems fine otherwise, it will be difficult to tell until he wakes up. We should try to rouse him occasionally over the next couple of hours.'

'We'll see to it,' said Athos. The implication behind his statement not lost on Porthos. Aramis would not be around to continue his care for the young man. Athos meant to implement his plan as soon as possible.

With a deep breath Porthos finally turned back from the window, his eyes settled on the small vicious looking whip laying on the table by the door.

'We can do it in our room, the last thing he needs is to wake up and see me attacking Aramis with no explanation.'

Porthos walked decisively to the door picking up the whip as he went passed. He entered the next room and waited. Trying to ready himself for the task, trying to distance himself from what he would be doing to his friend. Even if it was for the greater good, it did not feel good to him.

Aramis and Athos followed him. Aramis undoing his doublet as he walked, he appeared to be of the same mind as Porthos that they needed to get the unpleasantness over with. Although Porthos knew that the unpleasantness would not end here for Aramis. He would continue to be in pain and Porthos would not be able to do anything about it.

Aramis pulled off his shirt and with a final glance at Porthos turned his back to him and braced himself against the wall. Porthos could tell he was trying not to display any fear, but there was a tell-tale tremor in his shoulders all the same.

Athos stepped forward and held up a piece of leather for Aramis to bite down on saying, 'you must be quiet…I'm sorry.'

Porthos positioned himself to the left of Aramis and hesitated for a second. He could sense Athos looking at him but could not bring himself to look at the man who had effectively ordered him to harm their brother.

For Aramis' sake Porthos did not hesitate for long, with a quick sweep of his arm he brought the whip down across his back. Aramis moaned through the leather but remained still. His hands clenching up, his knuckles white.

Again, Porthos brought the whip down slightly lower than the first hit, Aramis involuntarily moved away stepping closer to the wall. Athos stepped forward again and put a hand on the marksman's shoulder and firmly pushed him back into position. He made eye contact with Aramis who nodded, his breathing already heavy. Athos stepped back and indicated for Porthos to continue.

Aramis was unconsciously holding his breath now, trying to anticipate the next swing of the short whip. Porthos was quick with the third strike, he could tell it was hurting his friend more than he was letting on. His arms were shaking quite obviously now. Each time the whip landed on Aramis' back the leather straps, no wider than twine curled round and hit his side leaving instant red marks like stings.

Porthos glanced at Athos for the first time, Athos nodded for him to swing again. Porthos did. This time Aramis did cry out the leather falling from his mouth. Athos was quick to grab the pained man and put his hand over his mouth to smother the sound. Aramis was sweating now; his legs were shaking with the effort of continuing to stand unaided. It took him a few minutes to regain his composure. Porthos wanted to stop. Wanted to be anywhere else but in this room doing what he was doing.

Athos had managed to calm Aramis enough that he was standing straighter again, the leather strap replaced.

'Two more,' he said.

Porthos looked at Athos and shook his head, he did not want to continue. Athos looked at him, sadness in his eyes. Porthos knew this was not something he was finding easy either.

'Do it,' Aramis mumbled through the leather tensing up.

Porthos swung the whip again and again in quick succession. Aramis gasped in shock, not expecting the speed that the last two lashes would be delivered. But he remained standing. His breathing was heavy and a bit laboured.

Aramis' back was now a mess of angry red welts, bruises and trickles of blood where the whip had cut through his skin. Porthos did not want to be near him. He dropped the whip and walked out, he could not look at either man.

He closed the door firmly behind him. Hating himself, even though he had nothing to hate himself for.

MMMMMMMM

The first lash had been a shock, it was more painful than he had expected. The problem was he was now anticipating the next one. He tried to keep still but could not help himself from moving away from the thing that was hurting him. It was an instinctive move, he had hated Athos in the few moments that followed. Being firmly pushed back into place. He knew it had to be done, but he still hated the man.

By the third strike he knew that he was outwardly showing the signs of pain, he could no longer hide the shake of his arms.

But the fourth one was the one that hurt the most. He had cried out in pain. He knew he should not but it came none the less. He was confused when he felt a hand over his mouth, he felt smothered, but could not coordinate himself to fight back. He realised it was only Athos trying to keep him quiet, his brain finally registering what was going on, remembering that he was a willing participant in this torture.

He had felt on the point of collapse then. He did not want this to continue. When Athos was satisfied that he was not going to fall he had stepped away again. Aramis knew that meant he had to endure the pain again.

'Two more.'

Two? Aramis was not sure he could last that long, his legs were shaking, he was sweating. All he wanted to do was crumple to the floor, to curl up and try to pretend this was not happening.

When the noise of the impending pain did not happen, he knew he had to encourage Porthos. He needed this to be over, and over soon.

He was not expecting the last two lashes to happen together, with no pause. He had gasped in pain, he could not help it. He was breathing hard, his back felt like it was on fire.

Aramis heard the door close, knowing that Porthos had left him alone with Athos. As if unburdened by a need to protect his friend from the true pain he was in, his shaking legs finally gave way. He collapsed to the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Aramis had clearly been holding on until Porthos left. His collapse was so instant; timed with the door closing. Athos was already moving forward, grabbing him before he hit the floor completely. Pulling him over to sit on the edge of the bed.

The injured man was taking shaking breaths, trying to steady himself. Athos sat beside him, he hoped his presence was reassuring, but he could not be sure. It had been his idea after all.

Athos knew that had the situation been different he would have insisted it be him that was assaulted, him that took on this dangerous role of play acting to gain information. But their circumstances had led to this. To him, their leader, being forced to watch as one of his men was assaulted by the other. All in order to make his plan convincing. He prayed that it would work; and he rarely prayed.

After a few minutes Aramis raised his head from the bowed position he had been in. He nodded at Athos and managed a small pained smile.

'I'm fine,' Aramis said quietly.

'No, you are not, but this would not work if you were,' replied Athos rising from the bed. He handed Aramis his shirt and watched for a few seconds as his marksman struggled into the garment. His injured back not yet too stiff to prevent him from dressing himself. Athos knew that with time his friend would feel more pain and stiffness from his beating, but at the moment he could still move with relative ease.

'This is a good plan, it will work Athos,' said Aramis looking into his friend's eyes holding his gaze. This was typical of Aramis, to be thinking about them more than himself.

Athos walked to the door, 'I'm going to arrange for a cart to use to take us back to Lefevre's, we need to get you there without being seen. I expect the place to still be under the gang's surveillance. I doubt you will have to work hard to make your dismissal from his service look real.'

He looked back at Aramis who was still sat on the edge of the bed. The man was in pain, but trying to hide it from his leader. Athos was filled with regret and doubt. Had he made a mistake? Was there a better plan they could have come up with? He did not know, but it was too late now.

MMMMMMMMMMMM

D'Artagnan squinted as the bright light tried to blind him. The setting sun was beaming through the window onto his bed. He shifted slightly to find a bit of cover from the rays. The slight move caused his head to complain bitterly. He moaned at the pain.

'D'Artagnan?'

Despite the pain d'Artagnan moved his head and opened his eyes. He saw Aramis looking at him, slightly concerned.

'm fine,' he managed.

Aramis helped him to sit up, d'Artagnan frowned when Aramis hissed, as if in pain, when he did so. There was something odd about the man's appearance. Where were his doublet and weapon belt? They rarely wandered about unprepared for a fight and yet Aramis was sat on the edge of the bed in plain trousers and a shirt.

'How is your head? Do you feel any nausea or dizziness?' asked Aramis as he gently checked d'Artagnan's head wound.

'Bit dizzy and I have a headache…are you injured?'

'It's nothing for you to worry about. I wanted to check on you before I go. We have a plan to get the gang…I'm going to infiltrate, and get the information we need…you'll behave, won't you? Do what they tell you? We need you fighting fit, and to get better, you need to rest.'

D'Artagnan had been watching Aramis carefully whilst he talked, there was definitely something wrong.

'I will.'

'Good,' Aramis looked away for a moment, reaching for a cup of water from the small table by the bed. As he did so d'Artagnan noticed the cross around his neck.

'Your cross,' he said, 'probably best not to wear it around a bunch of thieves.'

Aramis reached up and held the cross for a few seconds, indecisive, then took it off. D'Artagnan took it from him saying, 'I'll keep it safe for you.'

Aramis smiled, 'thank you…now have a drink.'

D'Artagnan took the cup and slowly drank the water, it felt good on his dry throat. He finished it and handed the cup back to Aramis. He could feel his eyes drooping. Aramis helped him to lie back down.

'Now, sleep.'

D'Artagnan nodded and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he was aware of Aramis standing up and walking towards the door and opening it. Before he had disappeared outside d'Artagnan opened his eyes again. He was confused by what he saw, the back of Aramis' shirt had blood stains on it. Not too much, but enough to be noticeable.

The need for sleep won the battle that had begun to rage in d'Artagnan head.

MMMMMMMMMM

'How is he?'

'He woke up briefly, I got him to drink. Keep him quiet for as long as possible. He should be fine…how are you?'

'Fine.'

'No, you're not.'

'Aramis…'

'No, Porthos. I need to know that you are not blaming yourself. I'm about to go out there and get myself caught by a gang of bandits. I need to know you are not dwelling on what you just did to me. Under orders.'

'Under orders…still don' make it right.'

Aramis was about to speak again but Porthos put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

'I am fine,' he said firmly, knowing that Aramis was right, they needed to be alert and not distracted by anything else. What Aramis was about to do was dangerous and he would need his brothers ready.

Aramis nodded in thanks.

'Do something for me?' asked Porthos, 'stay safe, and if it looks like you've been found out…get out of there. Promise me, that you won't stay longer than you need to?'

Aramis smiled as he nodded his accent to the command. They both knew it was sound advice. Aramis would not be able to fight off the bandits with his usual grace, his injuries, although not serious, would be debilitating during a fight.

MMMMMMMMM

Athos watched from his seat at the front of the small covered cart he had borrowed. He knew that Porthos was feeling guilty although he had no need to be. It had been his idea, his order. But Porthos had been the one to carry out the instruction.

After the brief exchange Aramis climbed into the back of the cart. His movements were becoming more laboured as the pain in his back started to make itself known to the marksman. Athos hoped that he was not putting Aramis into too much danger. The plan had been simple in his head, but now he was worried. The injuries compromised Aramis, he would be reliant on his acting skills for this to work.

As Athos nudged the horse on and the cart trundled toward Lefevre's property he pulled the borrowed cape closer about him. It was imperative that he was not recognised on the way, or Aramis' cover would be blown before they started.

'I want you to be as quick as you can. Get the information, report back to Porthos, and then leave the gang at the next chance you get. I do not like the idea of you going back after reporting to Porthos, but we have to maintain the pretence.'

'It will be fine,' said Aramis, he was huddled in the back of the cart. Athos glanced round and was annoyed to note that Aramis was shivering. He had wanted Aramis to leave with at least a peasant's jacket, but Aramis had insisted that it would work better if he was in his shirt sleeves. The description of the man who had been thrown into the Chatelet acting as their guide.

'We are nearly there, I will pull into the courtyard. You will need to slip out and hide until I am gone. If anyone is about I will make some excuse and turn around and leave straight away…good luck my friend…remember tomorrow night, make sure you are not followed.'

Aramis nodded and moved to the back of the cart ready to jump off as soon as they were out of sight of the road. Athos pulled the cart into the courtyard. He thought his entrance would stir the stable boys, at the very least, but it could not be helped and, if necessary, he could talk his way out of it as they would recognise him from earlier.

He heard Aramis scramble from the cart. Without turning around to check on his friend he began to turn the cart around. He knew it would look odd to anyone watching the house but he hoped they would think he had merely entered the wrong property. He planned to continue up the road to the next property and then pull in there for an hour. His musketeer uniform hidden under the plain cape would be enough to discourage any issues with the neighbouring household.

As he pulled back out of the courtyard he caught sight of Aramis crouched down in the bushes, he did not acknowledge him but carried on up the road still doubting the plan.

MMMMMMMM

Aramis waited in the darkness long after the cart was out of sight. He made sure that no one in the Lefevre household had been disturbed.

His back hurt, he was getting stiffer by the minute. He knew he would not have to exaggerate the pain, the pain was real.

Eventually he decided that enough time had passed. He stood up slowly, bracing himself against a tree as he did so. With one last glance, back at the house he stumbled out of the gates and onto the road.

He remembered what Porthos had said about the direction that the fleeing servant had taken earlier when running from d'Artagnan. He went in the same direction. He wandered across the road and entered the woods. He did not try to keep quiet.

It did not take long, he was aware he was being followed but made no outwards sign. He had to be prepared not to react aggressively when they made themselves known. He would have to pretend to be scared, he was after all, a fleeing servant who had just been beaten and dismissed by a cruel master.

He sensed someone creeping up behind him, he forced himself not to tense up ready to fight back. He need not have worried, when he was grabbed it was with force. He was pushed roughly to the ground, a knee firmly on his injured back. As he fell he had not been able to help the cry of pain. There had been no need to act.

'Quiet,' a rough voice said, in Spanish.

He was dragged up onto his knees and firmly held by someone behind him. He did not resist, instead he did his best to look frightened. The man who had told him to be quiet, crouched down in front of him. From the description that Porthos had given, this was Paget.

'What do you want?' he asked, his reply in Spanish.

'To help you. If you tell us everything you know about the gold shipment, we will give you a cut when we steal it.'

Aramis was startled by the candid and direct nature of the statement. The gang clearly knew the shipment was soon and needed any information they could get quickly.

'Will you help us…' Paget was impatient, Aramis hesitated, Paget nodded at the person behind Aramis. He felt himself being pushed back down, he resisted a bit this time, but not enough for the man to realise that his captive was better at protecting himself than they had first thought. Once on the ground Paget leaned down and grabbed Aramis hair, pushing his head down painfully. Paget leaned closer.

'If you do not help us, we will make it worse for you…would you like us to make it worse for you?'

Aramis managed to shake his head slightly. Paget nodded his approval and stood up, apparently satisfied that the threat had worked. Aramis was pulled up to his feet this time, still held firmly by the man behind him.

'Good, now what is your name?'

'Carlos,' replied Aramis.

'Carlos, we are going to look after you. We have a small house not far from here. We will tend to your injuries and feed you…and then, you will tell us everything you know.'

He turned and began walking away, Aramis found himself being pushed in the same direction. Once he started moving the man behind let him go and he was allowed to walk on his own. The rough treatment had not done his back any good, it hurt much more now.

But the plan was working. So far.

MMMMMMMM

'Why did you drive a cart into my courtyard late last night and then turn around again and leave?'

The questions surprised Athos. He had just been admitted to Lefevre's study when the man had confronted him.

'If you will permit me sir, I will tell you.'

Lefevre nodded to a chair in front of his desk. Athos waited for the nobleman to retake his own seat before lowering himself into the chair.

'I needed to smuggle one of my men into your courtyard, he needed to be seen leaving here by the bandits so that they would think he was one of your staff. We hope that the gang will take him to their hideout. Once he returns we will know where they are.'

'Are you sure your man will be allowed to leave?'

'He is a musketeer, I doubt he will give them a choice.'

Athos would not relate the whole plan to the disagreeable man, but he needed to placate him.

'I see, will you take them from their hideout?'

'No, I would still rather take them on the road. Wherever they are hiding, it will be well guarded and they will be on their own ground. They will be more vulnerable on the road.'

'I hope you are correct.'

MMMMMMMMM

The house the gang were hiding in had clearly been deserted for some time. It was dilapidated and dirty. Two rooms formed the ground floor, with a rickety stair up to two further rooms on the first. When they had arrived, Paget had led him up the stairs and into one of the small rooms. Another man was sitting on a small uncomfortable looking bed in the corner. The man stood when they entered and looked at Paget.

'Ramiro, dress this man's wounds, make sure he eats then bring him back down to us.'

His swift instructions given Paget turned and left Aramis and the man alone.

'I don't recognise you.'

Aramis swallowed, trying to think how to reply, he had not expected to meet any of Lefevre's servants. He thought quickly, the only thing that could save him from this was to hope that Ramiro believed he had only been in Lefevre's service for a very short time.

'I was only there for a few days…I displeased him…I don't know what I did wrong,' Aramis hoped that the lack of details would not matter to Ramiro.

Ramiro continued to stare at Aramis assessing him. Aramis really wanted to sit down, his back hurt and he was shaking from the effort of his march to the hideout and the rough treatment he had received when he had been picked up by Paget and his man.

Ramiro must have noticed the discomfort, he stood and walked over, gently guiding Aramis over to the bed. Gratefully he sat down.

'Take off your shirt. I will fetch what I need.'

Ramiro left the room. Aramis struggled out of his shirt, hissing in pain as he had to pull the fabric from his skin in places where it had stuck to the blood.

Ramiro returned with a tray holding a bowl of what looked like a stew and some rudimentary medical supplies. Ramiro knelt on the bed behind Aramis and started to clean the wounds on his back. He was surprisingly gentle, Aramis got the impression this was not the first time he had cleaned wounds like this. Lefevre did have quite a reputation. Ramiro dressed the worst of the cuts to Aramis back with strips of cloth wrapped around his torso. When he was done he helped Aramis put on a clean shirt. The bowl of stew was pushed into his hands.

'Eat. Paget wants to speak to you…you must tell him everything you know…he will know if you are lying or not telling him everything.'

Aramis hoped that was not true.

'Paget is going to help us kill Lefevre,' said Ramiro decisively, 'I want him dead, so he won't hurt anyone else. You know he does this to all his servants, you're not the first one. He did it to me as well and the others. But Paget is a good man…he gets angry easy, but he is a good man really.'

Aramis knew that was not true.

Once Aramis had finished eating Ramiro led him back down stairs. Aramis was forced to take his time getting back down them. He was in quite a lot of pain now. Paget was waiting for them.

'You can go,' he said to Ramiro, who scurried back up the stairs. Aramis heard the door to the room upstairs close.

Paget indicated a chair that had been set out in the middle of the room. Aramis sat, gingerly, sitting slightly forward so as not to put pressure on his back.

'There is something about you that I am not sure about,' said Paget, sitting himself in a chair opposite Aramis.

Aramis kept quiet, waiting to be asked a question.

'No matter…tell me what you know about the gold.'

'I know that there is a lot of it…it's for the King…and they are taking it on Thursday…to Paris.'

'This is all information I already know. Tell me something I do not,' Paget said impatiently.

Aramis pretended he was trying to think of something else to say. He glanced around the room. The door looked sturdy, it had a couple of good bolts on it, probably added by Paget. Perhaps they planned to bring the gold back here. The windows were sound, with good solid shutters. The place was defensible. Athos had been correct, thinking that the road would be a better place to take out the gang.

There were five other men in the room. Three of them looked like capable fighters, each had a gun and a sword close at hand. The other two looked like they might have been former servants as well. But they must have been away from Lefevre for some time as they did not have the same haunted look that Ramiro did.

'I'm waiting…'

'I saw a map…with the route he is taking on it,' Aramis finally said.

The other men stirred at this statement. Aramis must have hit on something they did not know. This was good. It made him useful to the gang. Paget looked over at one of the men sat behind him, leaning on a table, and nodded.

The man reached behind him and picked up a map that had been lying there. He passed it to Paget, who held it up in front of Aramis.

'Can you show me?'

Aramis nodded, feigning enthusiasm.

MMMMMMMM

Porthos was not happy with the wait. The sun did not seem to be moving across the sky as quickly as he wanted it to. The dirty clock on the wall of the taverns bar was surely turning too slowly.

D'Artagnan sat silently beside him. Porthos had allowed the young man to get up to eat lunch after he had assured the big musketeer that he was feeling better. They now sat in the tavern waiting. Athos had gone to speak with Lefevre again. Neither Porthos nor d'Artagnan were required there.

Porthos sighed and took another swig of wine. He knew there was nothing that could be done yet. They had no idea where Aramis was. Porthos would have liked to have followed the night before but Athos would not allow it. There was too much at risk if he had been seen, the fragile cover they had built for Aramis could have been blown. Aramis had also wanted someone to remain with the still injured d'Artagnan.

'He'll be fine,' said d'Artagnan quietly.

'Will he? I don't like it. If he don' show up tonight, how are we gonna find him?'

'He will be there,' said d'Artagnan firmly.

Porthos grunted in reply and took another drink of wine. He put the cup down and leaned back in his chair closing his eyes for a few moments. The clock still did not move to the time he wished.

The one thing that Porthos clung to was that there was a chance that Aramis would not have to go back to the gang, perhaps their hide out was such that it could be attacked. They could take out the bandits before they struck at the gold.

Perhaps. But unlikely.

The need to catch them red handed, was paramount. They would not be able to prove these were the bandits who were plotting to kill Lefevre and take the gold otherwise. No. Athos was right, they had to take the bandits on the road.

Porthos hated this plan.

The door to the tavern creeked, Porthos opened his eyes and saw Athos walk in. He went to the bar and ordered more wine before joining them at the table. He sat next to d'Artagnan.

'Lefevre is up to date with what we are doing. Well enough for him to know what to do…'

Porthos leaned forward and said quietly, 'what…didn't you tell him? That we assaulted one of our own so they would pass as one of his poor discarded servants?'

D'Artagnan frowned and looked between Porthos and Athos.

'What are you going on about?' he asked.

'You tell 'im,' said Porthos as he leaned back again.

Athos hesitated, clearly surprised that d'Artagnan had not been updated by Porthos in his absence.

'We had to make Aramis…appear like Lefevre had…beaten him…as he does with all his servants before he dismisses them.'

D'Artagnan looked horrified.

'You whipped him?' said d'Artagnan staring at Athos.

'Yes,' said Athos.

'No,' said Porthos, 'I did. Athos hasn't got the strength in his arm yet. He is still too crippled to carry out his own plan.'

Porthos pushed his chair back loudly, grabbed his half-drunk bottle of wine and stalked out of the room. He climbed the stairs and made his way to the room he should be sharing with his friend. He sat on his bed and stared at the wall where Aramis had been leaning when he had beat him with the crude whip. He finished the wine, drinking it directly from the bottle. He swung his legs up onto the bed and lay down. He knew Athos would make sure he was awoken in plenty of time to make the meeting with Aramis. He would not dare let him sleep any longer. He would not dare go instead. Porthos had made sure Athos knew that he was the one who was going to meet Aramis.

MMMMMMMMM

Paget sent Carlos back upstairs. His most recent acquisition had some useful information, he had willingly outlined the route that Lefevre would take with the gold. When asked how he had come by the information he had stated that he had been present in the room when Lefevre and the musketeers had been discussing the transport.

The arrival of three musketeers might have been an issue, particularly when Ramiro was nearly taken by them. It had been fortunate that he and a couple of his men had followed Ramiro. Afterwards he had questioned Ramiro to find out what he had told the musketeer he spoke to. Paget had been pleased that their hide out remained secret. The house was ideally situated to spy on Lefevre and gain access to the road to Paris.

The route being taken, and now confirmed by Carlos, was direct, and had a few places where an ambush could take place.

A thought occurred to him. When Carlos had outlined the route, he had paused a couple of times, his finger resting on the map. Both places would be ideal for the attack. Was it just coincidence?

Paget thought about Carlos, his outward appearance was one of a cowed servant. He had received Lefevre customary dismissal beating. But there was something that bothered him. He could not work out what it was, but something concerned him.

'Luc,' he said. One of the men looked up from sharpening his sword, 'I want you to keep an eye on Carlos. Be discreet, I don't want him put off telling us anything else he may know.'

Luc nodded and returned to sharpening his weapon.

Even if his concern turned out to be unfounded, it paid to be proactive.

MMMMMM

Aramis was not a prisoner in the gangs run down hideout. They had all eaten together in the evening. Once finished Ramiro had cleared away the plates and most of the other men had spread themselves about the place. Aramis had casually walked outside. A couple of the men were tending to the horses. He decided to quietly walk away. No one was stopping him, it did seem a bit easy, but Paget had stated during their earlier conversation that he was under no obligation to stay, now that he had passed on his information. It was, however, impressed upon him that if he were to talk to anyone about their plan he would be killed. This implied to Aramis that he would probably be followed, but he was confident he could lose them in the thick woods.

He made his way further away from the house then turned in the direction of the derelict chapel where he was going to meet Porthos. There had been no sign of anyone following him. He had been careful not to leave any indication of his route and had stopped several times to listen intently. If he had been followed, they were clearly not very good as he had obviously already lost them.

His progress was occasionally hampered by the strain on his back. He had to take it slowly if he had to bend to get under a low branch or clamber over a fallen tree. He was fairly certain the cuts on his back were bleeding again, he hoped he would not have to explain why he had exerted himself when he got back to the hide out later. He also hoped he would not have to explain himself to Porthos, he was not sure which would be worse.

The chapel came into view. It would have been a pretty place when in use, but the years of emptiness had not been kind to the small house of God. The alter was still fairly intact, he crossed himself as he approached saying a prayer, asking for his friends to be kept safe.

He looked about and not seeing any sign of Porthos found a fallen piece of masonry to sit on and waited, keeping alert for his friend's approach.

Porthos arrived soon after, the relief on his face at seeing Aramis palpable. Aramis noted his expression turned to one of concern as he stiffly rose from his sitting position.

'I'm fine…how is d'Artagnan?'

'I wish you wouldn't keep sayin' that…d'Artagnan is up and about, he will be fine to come with us tomorrow…I'm guessing the fact that you got here means they have accepted you?'

'Yes, I've told them the route and I overheard Paget talking to the others. He said he plans to attack on the stretch of road by the wood. The area that you thought most likely.'

'Do they suspect you?' asked Porthos, not even trying to hide his concern.

'I don't think so, Paget did seem a bit sceptical at first, but they let me wander off alone. I wasn't followed.'

Porthos paused for a moment, Aramis shivered, unable to control the natural reaction to the chill he was feeling.

'You should come back with me.'

Aramis shook his head, 'no, if I disappear so quickly they will suspect and change their plan. They aren't taking me with them on the raid, so when they leave in the morning I will be on my own.'

'And you will head straight to the tavern?'

Aramis rolled his eyes at his friend's demand, sighing he replied, 'yes Porthos I will go directly to the tavern, then, when you get back I will allow you to mother me as much as you like.'

Porthos did not smile, but nodded in agreement. As much as Aramis wanted to join his friends in taking down the bandits he knew that in his current state he would be more of a liability than a help.

'I'll head back now…good luck,' said Aramis as he moved off, 'and be careful, I don't want to be sewing any of you up when you get back.'

Aramis walked off, trying not to display any signs of discomfort to his friend.

'Wait,' said Porthos with some urgency, 'your back is bleeding, hasn't it been cleaned and dressed yet?'

Aramis sighed and turned back, 'yes, Ramiro dressed the wounds, but the walk here was a little more…difficult than I had anticipated…'

'I should have a look…'

'No Porthos, there isn't time, I have to get back before they get suspicious.'

Porthos did not look convinced but nodded slowly and allowed Aramis to leave.

MMMMMMM

Unseen by either musketeer, Luc crept away. Paget would not be happy with this turn of events. He had been suspicious. Now those suspicions were confirmed.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors note: Here it is Deana! Thanks for all the reviews everyone.

Chapter Four

Aramis knew something was different as soon as he stepped through the door of the hideout.

His walk back from the rendezvous with Porthos had been tiring. He knew he would not be able to rest until he was back at the tavern. Even then he would not be happy until his friends were back and he knew they were all unharmed.

Now, as he walked into the main room of the house being tired was the least of his problems. The door was closed behind him by one of Paget's men. Aramis stopped in the middle of the room looking at Paget. The leader of the bandits stood up and crossed the short distance between them, his face a contortion of menace and rage.

Aramis tried to affect a confused expression, wary that he should not blow his own cover by reacting to Paget with force. Paget grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him backwards until he was stopped by the large table. Paget tuned him round and roughly pushed him down onto the table, leaning hard across his back, pinning him there.

'You were seen,' stated Paget, 'you were seen talking to a musketeer…why was that?'

Aramis thought fast, 'I didn't know he was a musketeer…'

'You…' Paget looked over at Ramiro who was sitting meekly in the corner, 'remind me what you said earlier about Carlos here…'

Ramiro looked terrified as he said, 'I don't think he worked for Lefevre.'

'And why was that?'

'The lashes on his back, I don't think there's enough.'

Thoughts whirled through Aramis' head. Not enough lashes? It had not occurred to him that Lefevre would count the times he hit his servants. His cover was surely blown, he decided to make one last effort to convince them.

'You're wrong…' he started but could not finish as Paget shifted his weight causing him to yelp in pain instead.

'Shut up, you don't speak anymore.'

One of the other men stepped forward and forced a rag into Aramis' mouth and tied another around his head to keep it in place. He tried this best to struggle his way back to a standing position but Paget was too strong. Once the other man had finished gagging him he too helped to hold down their captive, a firm hand on each shoulder.

Paget shifted his position again and pulled up Aramis' shirt, pushing it up to his shoulders. Aramis was aware that Paget had pulled a knife and was using it to slice off the strips of fabric that had been used by Ramiro to bind his wounds. Paget was not gentle and pulled the bandages off roughly, reopening the wounds. Aramis moaned in pain and tried struggling again. Paget slapped him hard across the back.

'Keep still…you, take of your shirt. You two as well.'

Aramis watched as Ramiro and the other two former servants all removed their shirts and turned around to reveal their injuries. Ramiro's were still relatively fresh, the other two were healed, but they were all still clear enough to count. Seven lash marks across each servant's back.

'I count only six on you Carlos…if that is your name…'

Paget paused, contemplating something, looking between Aramis and the servants.

'Oh dear, my poor friend, I think you must have missed something else when you set up this deception…look at our loyal servants over there…a small detail, but they have all been whipped by a left-handed man…see the marks all go across their backs in the same direction?'

Porthos is right handed thought Aramis, his wounds would be a mirror image of those of the servants, not a copy.

His cover was well and truly blown. He tried to struggle up again but was pushed back down, his arms were pulled forcefully back and one of the men tied his wrists with some thick, rough rope. With his arms bound tightly behind him he was pulled off the table and pushed down to the floor. Paget kicked him for good measure in the side, Aramis tried to move away but could not, his back injury causing him too much pain. One of the men grabbed him by the arms and pulled him over to the side of the room and leaned him against a supporting beam, another rope was used to secure him to the beam, his back screaming in protest.

He was breathing hard, trying desperately not to pass out. Paget noticed his struggle, he crouched down beside him and grabbed his hair pulling his head back saying, 'you are going to die, but not yet, we are going to take you with us on the raid so that you can watch as we surprise your musketeer friends from a different location, one that they won't be expecting. We'll take the gold from right outside Lefevre's house…now, why don't you get some rest.'

Aramis had no time to react to the punch that left him in darkness.

MMMMMMMMM

Porthos wanted to punch Lefevre. He wanted to lay the man out. As they had been preparing to leave his house the vindictive nobleman had slapped one of the stable boys and shouted at two of his servants.

Athos had given Porthos a look that told him to rein in his anger. But it was difficult. All the events of the last few days were playing on Porthos' mind.

This man, Lefevre, was evil. He was rich and evil. He used his wealth to buy favour with the King and discard those in the lower classes as if they were rubbish.

Paget was no better, playing on the fear of those discarded wretches to get what he wanted. Porthos had no doubt that those servants who were staying with him would not live to see the gold distributed amongst them. Paget would be keeping it for himself and his gang of thugs.

They were busy making final preparations before leaving for Paris. They knew where the attack would happen and they were prepared for it. Paget had picked a good spot, but they would be ready. They were all armed. Lefevre had two men with him. He had assured the musketeers that his men were good with both sword and gun.

The horses were ready, the carriage was loaded. Lefevre and one of his men rode with the gold. The others would work as outriders and keep watch for the attack, even though they knew when it would come.

They mounted up and readied themselves to leave the courtyard.

MMMMMMMM

'Are you sure this is going to work,' asked d'Artagnan. He and Athos were to lead the carriage with Porthos and Lefevre's other man bringing up the rear.

'It has to, we have all the information, we know where the ambush will be, we are as prepared as we can be,' replied Athos, hoping that he sounded reassuring.

His plan and his orders had lead them to this. Porthos was barely speaking to him, and d'Artagnan was worried it would not work. His own confidence was not doing very well. But they were nearing the end now.

The intelligence was sound, they were prepared, yes, he thought, it would work. He spurred his horse forward. They began to move out of the courtyard.

MMMMMMMMM

Aramis woke slowly with a groan. His jaw hurt where he had been punched, the back of his head hurt where it had hit the post behind him. He could not feel his hands, the rope around his wrists was tight. But he could feel his wrists where the rough rope was cutting into them. The kick to the side he had received form Paget had probably, at the very least, bruised a couple of ribs. He was still gagged. And his back was more painful than anything else.

The position he now found himself in was not very comfortable either. He had been sat on a horse and was tied to its saddle, he had no control over the beast, its reins were attached to those of another at his side. This was being ridden by Paget who looked across as his prisoner regained consciousness.

'Glad you could re-join us,' he said, 'I rather wanted you conscious when we take out the musketeers and take the gold for ourselves.'

Aramis managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. He glanced around and realised there were only three other men, Lefevre's former servants were all missing.

'Oh, you're wondering where the servants are? Didn't need them. We only kept them on to serve us, they were more than willing as long as they thought we were going to help them get revenge on Lefevre.'

They were reaching the edge of the woods, the narrow path they had walked the horses along came out a short way from the entrance to Lefevre's property. Paget untied the reins of Aramis' horse and held them loosely in his hands. Aramis guessed Paget intended to leave him out on the road so that he could watch as his friend were attacked knowing he could not do anything about it.

They were not going to be ready for an attack right at the start of their journey. They were expecting the attack after what would be a couple of hours ride. They would be prepared for the attack, but not expecting it. They would just be setting off; the surprise would work against them. The plan was foiled.

MMMMMMMM

The previous afternoon…

D'Artagnan watched as Porthos stalked out of the room and back upstairs. The man was clearly angry. He looked at Athos.

'Should we…'

'No let him be, he is right to be angry with me. I ordered him to do something that none of us would willingly do.'

D'Artagnan sat for a few minutes thinking about what had just happened. He realised now, that when Aramis visited him to check on his head wound the assault had already occurred. Aramis had denied being hurt so that d'Artagnan would not worry and concentrate on his own well-being.

He felt bad for not being there to support each of his friends through something that must have been very difficult to do. Aramis having to endure it, Porthos having to implement it and Athos having to watch as his order was carried out.

Something occurred to him, he looked up at Athos who was staring into his cup of wine.

'How many lashes did you give Aramis?'

Athos looked up at him puzzled, 'why?'

'It's just that when I was talking to Ramiro, he said that he had been whipped seven times, once for each day of the week that he had displeased Lefevre. I got the impression that Lefevre always gave seven lashes.'

Athos had visibly paled, 'we only lashed Aramis six times,' he said quietly.

'Perhaps they won't check…would they…why would they check?'

They both sat in silence for a few moments digesting the latest information.

'Should we tell Porthos, get him to make Aramis come back with him when they meet up?'

'No. I fear if Aramis goes missing too soon it might make Paget suspicious…if Porthos knows that Aramis is in more danger than we originally planned for, he is likely to act rashly and we still need to make this plan work.'

'You're prepared to leave Aramis with Paget, even though you know his deception could so easily be discovered?'

'Yes. I do not want to, but I have to…Not a word to Porthos…but there is something else we can do…'

MMMMMMM

The early hours of the next morning…

D'Artagnan was well hidden. He had followed Porthos discreetly and was now watching his interaction with Aramis from a distance. He could not hear what was being said, but that did not matter.

As Aramis walked away he quietly followed and soon noticed that, as Athos had suspected, there was a gang member also following Aramis. After a few minutes, the gang member swung away and disappeared into the woods, probably to get ahead of Aramis and inform Paget of the meeting he had witnessed.

D'Artagnan was surprised that Aramis was unaware of being followed. The red marks on the back of his shirt probably explained his lack of judgement, he was clearly suffering from his whipping earlier. His keen mind not functioning as well as it usually did.

Aramis entered an old house, the door was closed behind him. No one else was around so d'Artagnan chanced creeping up to the window, he peered in through the dirty glass being careful to keep out of sight.

It was obvious that Aramis had been found out. He was being held down on a table by a man who d'Artagnan guessed was Paget. The man pulled up Aramis' shirt and cut off the bandages covering his back. It was as d'Artagnan had feared, the six lashes his friend had received at Porthos' hand were one too few.

D'Artagnan found it hard not to rush to Aramis aid when he was bound and gagged. He knew he would not be able to save Aramis on his own. All he could do was watch and listen to try and grab any information that would help the musketeers, and hopefully restore Aramis to them.

MMMMMMMMMM

Now…

'Don't make it too obvious that we know the attack is to happen here,' said Porthos looking over at the man to his right.

Lefevre's men, Paul and Giles seemed capable enough, but they were no soldiers. They were probably only treated marginally better than the servants.

Paul had his hand on the hilt of his sword, he nodded at Porthos and returned his hand to the reins. They were just turning out of the courtyard. Once they were fully on the road the bandits attacked. Paul was despatched by a gun-shot to the chest, his expression one of surprise as he fell from the horse.

Porthos urged his horse forward. The carriage had stopped and both Lefevre and Giles had rushed out ready to fight. Unfortunately for Giles he took a shot to the head and played no further part.

A third shot whistled passed Porthos, he quickly established where the shot had come from and fired in the approximate direction, he knew he was unlikely to hit anyone but it would, hopefully, prevent the gunman from taking out any more of them for the time being.

Athos and d'Artagnan were both engaged in sword fights. The initial rush had caused Athos horse to rear so he had been forced to dismount. D'Artagnan was still mounted but as he was being attacked by two men it was only a matter of time before he was pulled off.

'Porthos, get Aramis!' yelled Athos as he fought hard against two men, one being the hidden gunman who had broken cover after Porthos had shot in his direction.

Initially Porthos did not know what Athos meant, then he saw his friend a little further up the road. He was struggling to stay mounted, his horse reacting to the gun shots. It took Porthos a moment to realise that Aramis had his hands tied behind his back and that he was tied to the saddle. He could not dismount or control the frightened creature.

Another gun-shot saw the beast take further fright and run away from the melee. Aramis being forced to lean forward in an attempt to stop himself being unseated. Porthos did not want to think about what would happen if Aramis lost his balance whilst tied to the saddle of the fleeing animal.

Porthos could only follow and hope he could catch up to his friend before he fell.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

D'Artagnan had spotted the men as soon as they emerged from the wooded area. They had already guessed that was where the attack would come from. Armed with d'Artagnan's update of the change of attack location Athos had briefed Lefevre and his men prior to leaving. Lefevre had wanted to hunt the bandits out, but Athos had pointed out that the bandits would see them coming and disappear. Lefevre had to be reminded that the King wanted the bandits dealt with. Lefevre would most likely be praised for any part he played in their defeat. Lefevre had liked this thought.

The first gun-shot had caused Athos' horse to rear, and unseat its rider. The musketeer horses were generally well behaved around the sound of gun fire but they could still be unpredictable at times. He was off the horse and engaging his opponents quickly.

The second gun-shot had taken out the man with Lefevre in the carriage, a third shot was quickly followed by Porthos shooting back towards the unseen gunman.

D'Artagnan was aware of Athos shouting to Porthos to help Aramis although d'Artagnan had no idea where Aramis was. He was busy with two men attacking him from each side. He pulled his gun out and had just levelled it at one man when the other grabbed him from the other side pulling him off his horse, the gun clattering to the floor. As he fell he managed to pull his main gauche from his belt and strike at the man. The man let go of him and took a couple of steps back clutching his arm. D'Artagnan realised the man he had injured was Paget.

His horse trotted forward, away from the fight leaving nothing between d'Artagnan and the first man who had attacked him. With two men to deal with he was quick to scramble to his feet, drawing his sword.

Paget now had his sword in hand and advanced on d'Artaganan. The other man was trying to circle round behind him. D'Artagnan took a step back to prevent him from doing so. Paget thrust forward with his sword, d'Artagnan parried with ease. The other man stepped forward and tried to slice upwards with his weapon. Using his main gauche d'Artagnan stopped the swing of the sword twisting it round forcing the man's arms out to the side. D'Artagnan made use of his moment of vulnerability and kicked him hard in the gut, the man doubled over in pain, out of the fight. He would probably recover to re-join but for now it was just Paget and d'Artagnan.

They clashed swords a few times, Paget was good. Not as good as d'Artagnan but good enough to put up a decent fight. Paget took a few lunging steps forward forcing d'Artagnan back. He ended up with his back to the carriage and nowhere else to go. The restricted space posed a problem, it gave Paget the advantage. But Paget became distracted by something, the gold. The distraction was enough for d'Artagnan to rush Paget and push him back a few steps, the man stumbled, falling to the ground. As d'Artagnan was about to press his advantage the other man stepped back into the fray, recovered from his earlier assault.

Too late, d'Artagnan realised the man had picked up and fired the gun that he had dropped earlier. The pain in his left leg told him he had been hit. His leg immediately folding under him, as he sank to the ground the gunman rushed forward. He was quick, but d'Artagnan was quicker, he plunged his main gauche fatally into the man's stomach. The forward moment of the attacker carried him passed d'Artagnan to collapse harmlessly behind him.

Paget, however, was back on his feet and moving forward.

MMMMMMM

Paget had dismounted along with his three men. They waited for the carriage and its outriders to leave the courtyard and turn onto the road, as it drew nearer they sprang into action. Paget pulled at the horse Aramis was sat on so that it walked out onto the road. It walked a little way up the road and stopped. Paget would be disappointed that it was facing the wrong way.

Aramis tried twisting around to see but his back screamed in pain as he did so. He could hear the fight but had no idea what was happening. Several gunshots in quick succession were very unwelcome. The horse began moving erratically, taking side steps and snorting. Aramis knew this was not good. Another gunshot had the horse's panic elevated enough for the creature to bolt. Aramis had to focus all his energy into staying on the beast, he used his legs to cling on as best he could, he leaned forward, closer to the beast. He knew that if he lost his balance he would fall to the side, but tied to the saddle he would end up getting dragged about under the beast.

He was vaguely aware of another horse coming up behind him. But his energy was fading fast.

MMMMMMM

The fleeing horse carrying Aramis had slowed to a skittish canter. Porthos gained on the frightened animal calling out to Aramis as he did so. Aramis' head was turned the other way so Porthos had no idea what state of consciousness his friend was in.

He grabbed at the reins and slowly brought the beast to a stop. Once he was satisfied the horse was not going to bolt again he reached out to Aramis.

He gently touched his friend's shoulder, 'Aramis?'

Aramis turned his head to look at Porthos, he was gagged and had bruising across his jaw. But he was conscious although he appeared to be struggling to remain so. His breathing was quick and shallow. Porthos pulled a knife from his boot and made short work of removing the gag. Aramis coughed a couple of times, wincing as he did so. Porthos put his hand on Aramis' shoulder to steady him.

'Can you sit up?'

Aramis tried to sit up but groaned, panting with the effort. Porthos managed to lean over enough to help him up, pulling him up gently by his shoulders. Once upright Aramis' breathing improved, he was still breathing fast but he was able to take deeper breaths now.

Porthos got to work on the rope binding his friend's wrists. His hands were red and the flesh around the wrists raw and bleeding in places.

'Are your hands numb? It's gonna hurt when the blood starts flowing again.'

Aramis nodded swallowing. Porthos was annoyed he had no water to offer his friend. Once he had cut through the rope he helped Aramis to move his arms to a more comfortable position. Aramis winced and hissed with pain as the feeling began to return to his hands.

'Others…' Aramis asked hoarsely.

'Fighting, two a piece, but they'll be fine.'

'Go back.'

'No. I'm not leavin' you. You're gonna pass out any minutes and I ain't picking you off the ground. We are going back to the tavern.'

Porthos looked at Aramis sternly. The injured man accepted that he was not going to win this argument and allowed Porthos to cut him free of the saddle as he flexed his fingers. Porthos took the reins of Aramis horse and started them both walking in the direction of the village. Although he was concerned about Athos and d'Artagnan, he had his orders. Orders from Athos that, this time, he was more than willing to follow. Athos had told him before they left that if Aramis was with the gang, which was likely from what d'Artagnan had said, Porthos was to get him to safety.

As they reached the tavern Aramis seemed a little more alert, his breathing had steadied and he was sitting straighter in the saddle although he was obviously in pain. Porthos dismounted and helped Aramis down. As his injured friend reached the ground Porthos kept a tight hold of him, aware that he may not be able to take his own weight yet.

Pulling Aramis' arm over his shoulder and slipping his arm around the man's waist, much as he had done with d'Artagnan a couple of days before, Porthos helped him into the tavern. With shaking steps Aramis managed to get up the stairs and along the short corridor to their room. Porthos manoeuvred Aramis to the edge of his bed and sat him down.

Porthos crouched down in front of his friend looked at him with concern. Aramis was flushed with the effort of getting from the horse to the bed and a sheen of sweat covered him. His breathing was quicker again and his eyes were unfocused. Porthos reached a hand up to his friends bruised face, he was hot. Porthos hoped it was not from fever.

'I'm gonna get the medical kit and some supplies…lie down…be better in case you do pass out.'

Aramis was clearly exhausted, he did not complain when Porthos helped him to lie down on his side. Aramis closed his eyes and Porthos could not tell if he had passed out or fallen asleep. Either way he took the opportunity to slip out and gather the supplies he needed to tend to his friend's injuries.

MMMMMMM

Athos side stepped a thrust from the shorter of his two assailants. Bringing his sword arm out quickly he smashed the man in the face with the hilt, knocking him a few steps to the side of the road. Athos had no time to congratulate himself on the move, the taller swordsman was slicing at him again. The man had a strange untidy style but it had been effective so far in keeping Athos from retaliating. But the man was tiering and Athos was a better swordsman, despite the stiffness he still felt in his arm. Two quick thrusts forward and the man now had two neat cuts across his stomach, he collapsed to the ground clutching at the wound.

The shorter man was back up, but he was obviously concussed. Not wanting to draw out the matter any longer Athos made short work of slicing his main gauche across the man's throat.

With both of his assailant's dead or dying Athos turned to see how d'Artagnan faired. The young man had obviously taken a gun-shot to the leg, he was lying on the floor. One of the attackers was advancing with his sword pointed at the downed man's chest. D'Artagnan was not so easily defeated. As Athos advanced to aid his fallen comrade he was impressed to see the young man push himself up into a sitting position and use his sword to deflect the enemies advance and then throw dirt at the man above him to temporarily blind him. As the man took a couple of steps back rubbing at his eyes d'Artagnan pushed himself up and thrust his sword deep into the man's torso.

D'Artagnan took a look round, when he realised there was no longer a threat he collapsed back on the ground. Athos hurried over grateful to find the man conscious. He was staring up at the sky panting hard, trying to catch his breath. His expression pained. Athos knelt beside the man quickly assessing the wound to his leg. He gently felt around d'Artagnan thigh eliciting a hiss of pain.

'Sorry…I need to know if the ball went through…' he paused as he continued his exploration of the injury finally concluding, 'you're lucky.'

'I don't feel lucky,' panted d'Artagnan in reply.

Athos smiled at him as he ripped a strip of his shirt to form a tourniquet. He wrapped it around the injury firmly.

'Will you be alright for a minute whilst I check on Lefevre? He is conspicuous by his absence.'

D'Artagnan nodded. Athos rose and walked back around the carriage. He found Lefevre sitting, leaning on the carriage. He looked up as Athos approached.

'Embarrassing,' he said, 'I jumped back when I heard the gun shot and smacked my head on the door frame, must have knocked myself out. Just came too, and it is all over.'

Athos had to try very hard not to smirk.

'Yes, the bandits are all dead. Your gold is safe. However, I have injured men to attend to,' said Athos adopting an air of authority, 'with your permission I would like to take my leave and return to the tavern. Once I have assessed the situation I shall return and we can decide the best course of action for delivering the gold.'

Lefevre nodded his accent. Athos helped him up and once certain the man was not too badly hurt left him there. He really did not have time to molly coddle a vindictive man like him.

He walked over to d'Artagnan's horse and brought it over to its rider who was now sitting up. He helped d'Artagnan to stand, taking most of the man's weight as he hopped the last couple of meters to the horse. With a little difficulty, he helped d'Artagnan onto the horse and once certain the young man would not pass out he mounted his own.

For d'Artagnan's sake they took the journey back to the tavern slowly.

MMMMMMM

The journey back had been uncomfortable. The struggle up the stairs had him nearly submitting to the threatening darkness. But now lying on the bed next to Aramis, d'Artagnan felt a little energised. They were all together and although there were injuries to attend to, they were all in the same room.

The last few days had been fraught, they had disliked the assignment from the start and then Athos' plan had not gone down well, particularly with Porthos. He had been assaulted, Aramis had come out even worse and Porthos was still barely speaking to Athos.

The fact that both Athos and Porthos were now working in harmony as they dealt with both his and Aramis' injuries was a good sign thought d'Artagnan.

He had been shocked at the state of Aramis as Athos had helped him over to the other bed. Porthos had stripped Aramis of his shirt and he was lying face down on the bed as his wounds were dealt with. There were obvious signs of infection, but Porthos seemed hopeful that they had caught it early enough.

Porthos had looked at Athos when they entered, silently asking what had happened.

'Ball went through his leg. He has lost some blood, but, provided he behaves himself he should recover fully. And as our resident tailor is in no state to do the sewing he will have to make do with mine.'

Porthos had nodded and returned to his own ministrations. D'Artagnan could not tell if Aramis was conscious or not. He was facing away, but seemed very still.

'What about Aramis?' he asked as Athos helped him down on to the other bed and forced him to lie down.

'Not good. Some of its infected, but I think he will be fine, we've caught it early. I've cleaned all the wounds,' he glanced at Athos, 'I'll need your help to dress them once you've sorted d'Artagnan out. I don't think his ribs are broken but he's got some bruising on his side. And a bump on the back of the head, and the bruise on his jaw...'

Porthos gently picked up one of Aramis arms and turned it over showing them the marks from the ropes.

'They must've bound his wrists really tight,' he said, 'I haven't got round to sorting them out yet.'

Porthos gave Athos a pointed look. D'Artagnan could tell that there were still unresolved issues between them. He knew they would work it out but he did not like it when there was a negative atmosphere between his friends.

'Can you get out of the these,' Athos indicated d'Artagnan's breeches, 'or am I cutting them?'

'I'll take them off,' said d'Artagnan as he began to wriggle out of his trousers. It was an uncomfortable process but he managed it. Athos arranged the alcohol and water to clean the wound then busied himself preparing a needle and thread.

'Do you need me?' asked Porthos.

Athos looked at d'Artagnan, 'are you going to be combative whilst I do this?'

D'Artagnan thought for a moment then said simply, 'I don't know.'

He knew that it would hurt and that he may not be able to control his reactions.

Porthos crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to d'Artagnan placing his hands firmly on the young man's shoulders ready to keep him still if he tried to move away from the pain that they knew was coming.

As the alcohol and then the water was poured on his thigh d'Artagnan could not help himself, he bucked and tried to move. Porthos used his bigger build to keep the man where he was whilst Athos cleaned the wounds to his satisfaction.

'You're doing well,' said Porthos quietly.

As the stitching began d'Artagnan started to feel the familiar pull of unconsciousness. He did not want to pass out if he could help it. He wanted to be there for his brothers. He did not want to leave Athos and Porthos alone. The blackness won.

MMMMMMMMM

As d'Artagnan went limp Porthos released his hold, gently pushing him back onto the pillow. He rose without a word and went back to the bed where Aramis lay. He started to clean the marksman's wrists.

Athos glanced over, between stitches, and knew that he still had to deal with Porthos obvious anger.

'Porthos, I am sorry. My plan was not as…good…as perhaps I thought it was. There were too many issues that we…I…should have considered. But I will not apologies for having you lash Aramis. As you pointed out yourself I could not have done it. Aramis could have refused to be assaulted, but he did not.'

Porthos paused in his work, but did not look up.

'I know. I don't 'old it against you, I know you have to make tough decisions sometimes. It was just hard for me to do…that,' he indicated Aramis' back.

Porthos went back to his work cleaning and dressing Aramis wrists whilst Athos did the same with d'Artagnan's leg.

Once he had finished dressing the young man's leg he covered him with a blanket and crossed to Aramis. Porthos had prepared bandages to dress the wounds.

'This is gonna be uncomfortable for him but I don' think he will put up much of a fight. If you can hold him up I will wrap the wounds.'

Between them they turned Aramis who moaned but did not fully awaken. Athos pulled him up into a sitting position and lifted his arms up enough for Porthos to bind the wounds. Athos noted how hot Aramis was, the fever that Porthos had mentioned earlier may have been worse than they had thought.

'We can take it in turns to watch over them both. I do not think d'Artagnan will cause any problems but this fever is a worry,' he said as they lay Aramis back down, positioning him on his side.

Porthos was feeling the bump on the back of Aramis head and checking for any blood as he said, 'yeah, I'll take first watch…are you going to visit Lefevre again…' Athos nodded, 'let him know how pleased we are that he and his gold are still safe,' he finished sarcastically.

'I shall,' said Athos as he rose.

Happy that he had gone some way to making peace with Porthos, Athos left.

MMMMMMM

Porthos replaced the damp cloth on Aramis' forehead. He had been sat by the feverish man for some hours now. The fever was no worse so Porthos was hopeful it would be short lived. Aramis had stirred a couple of times. Porthos had managed to get him to drink the last time. Now he was sleeping relatively peacefully.

'How is he?'

Porthos looked round at d'Artagnan who was watching from the other bed. He was pale but looked alert. Porthos crossed the room and helped the young musketeer to sit up. D'Artagnan tried not to react when the movement jarred his injured leg. Porthos handed him some water.

'He has the fever still, but it's no worse than earlier. None of his injuries are too serious. I think, more than anything, he's just exhausted from the last few days. Once he has rested and the fever 'as gone down he should be fine.'

'How about you and Athos, have you spoken yet?'

'Yeah. It's fine. It's been unpleasant, but nothin' that we'll carry with us. It's done. The plan was a good one, it was just not the easiest to deal with…I don't envy Athos, he has to make the hard decisions sometimes.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'what annoys me is that Lefevre will probably not appreciate what we did for him.'

'No, he won't. He won't appreciate that you were shot. He won't appreciate that Aramis put himself in a lot of danger. Just to protect his relationship with the King.'

'…and yet we just do as we are ordered to…by the King…and protect people like him.'

'Such is the life of a soldier,' said Porthos.

They sat in silence contemplating the life they had chosen. Difficult as it was, and frustrating at times, they would not have it any other way.

The End.

Authors note: There is a brief, predictable, epilogue to come.


	6. Chapter 6

The Greater Good

Epilogue

As Athos left Treville's room, he saw Porthos, d'Artagnan and Aramis sat at the table in the garrison yard. Porthos was telling them some tale or other, no doubt something to do with his last card cheating adventures. Both Aramis and d'Artagnan had been back on full duties for a week now, although Treville had kept them on relatively easy work to begin with.

When they had returned to the garrison they had been a sorry looking group. D'Artagnan was struggling to stay on his horse, and Aramis had been in obvious pain, so much so that he had not complained when two other musketeers helped him off his horse and practically carried him to the infirmary.

Athos wandered across to them. He waited for Porthos to finish his story.

'I have some news for you.'

They all looked round at him.

'I have just heard from Treville that Lefevre has been shot,' he paused gazing at each man in turn, their faces impassive, 'he was returning to his estate after delivering his gift. This must have been a week ago,' he paused again, none of the men reacted, 'the odd thing was he was shot in the left arm...'

This time there was a slight reaction from d'Artagnan, who could no longer keep eye contact with Athos.

'He was shot in such a way that he will never regain full use of his arm.'

Athos noticed the Aramis was suddenly very interested in his wine. Porthos continued to maintain eye contact.

'The shot must have been done by an accomplished marksman…'

By this time d'Artagnan was looking anywhere he could accept at Athos.

'…any idea who could have done that?' asked Athos looking at Aramis who was still very interested in his wine.

Athos paused, he looked at Porthos, 'Porthos, you need to teach these two how to bluff, it is no wonder you always beat them at cards.'

D'Artagnan could not hold back a small snigger and Aramis was smirking at his wine now. Porthos rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders.

Porthos poured Athos some wine and handed it to him.

'I guess,' said Porthos, 'he won't be quite so good at hitting his servants anymore…shame that.'

'For the greater good,' said Athos lifting the cup in a brief salute to all three of them.

MMMM

Authors note: Thanks very much for all the follows and reviews.


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